


Blinded

by LtTanyaBoone



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-24
Updated: 2011-10-24
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:18:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtTanyaBoone/pseuds/LtTanyaBoone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He never knows when he's done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blinded

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the song ["Blinded"](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FMTMiDDubE4) by Third Eye Blind. I don't own that, either. The summary is based on a line in the song (I never know when I'm done).

_Disclaimers:_ NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this.  
 _Spoilers:_ S8, plus I kinda fill the blank on what exactly Tony was doing at Ziva's apartment when Gibbs was in Mexico  
 _Pairing:_ Tony DiNozzo/Ziva David [Tiva] _  
_

* * *

It has been a rather bad day at work. They fought over the smallest details of the case, fought a lot and more angrily than usual, but then again they have been doing that a lot lately. It isn't that he is mad at her, he is mad at the whole situation. Most of all, he is angry with himself for passing up opportunities to finally leave this mess and everything that comes with it behind, to start anew, with his own team.

She left the bullpen still fuming from their latest explosion at each other, and he was too pissed off to follow her then. Which is why he is now standing outside of her apartment, gently knocking on the door. No one is answering. He has already tried her cell but couldn't heard it ring in the apartment.

A tiny voice in the back of his head screams at him that this is a splendidly stupid idea, that this isn't his place, not any more. She isn't his anymore, she has a boyfriend now, he doesn't have any right- He silences it with a shake of his head. She's his partner, he's just checking up on her. They need to resolve this or the tension will manifest itself at work and in the field in the most inconvenient time and could turn a dangerous situation deadly. He isn't going to let that happen, not when he cares so much.

So he digs into his jeans pocket and pulls out his key ring, easily finding the purple one she gave him for emergency use. He inserts it into the lock and takes a step back, waiting. No one comes running to the door and he frowns. Maybe she really isn't home. Well, in that case, he'll just make sure of it really quick and then he'll leave, she doesn't even have to know that he's been here.

Tony reaches out slowly and turns the key in the lock, frown increasing when the door opens easily. Either Ziva has picked up Gibbs' habit and is now not really locking her door any more, which he doubts, or she is actually home. Carefully, he opens it and sticks his head into the dark space, pausing briefly before he steps into the dark apartment and closes the door behind him, switching on the light.

Well, at least he now knows that Ziva _was_ here. Her backpack looks like it was thrown into the armchair and her NCIS jacket is flung over the back of it carelessly. One combat boot lies close to the door to the hallway. He takes off his own shoes and then follows the direction the boot pointed in.

Its companion lies in the hallway to her bedroom. The door is slightly ajar and soft light spills into the darkened hallway. With a deep breath, he steels himself and carefully pushes open the door to her bedroom.

He hasn't seen the one in this apartment before, but a look around it shows that it's similar to her previous one. The same warm orange paint is covering the walls, her bed is still wrought iron, her sheets still a rich purple, something that had surprised him when he had first caught glimpse of it. Even the smell is the same, a light note of perfume and a scent that, over the years, he came to simply accept as 'Ziva'. Though the pictures that she used to have on her dresser are now gone, but he doesn't want to dwell on that and what it could mean.

Instead, he slowly turns his head and stares at her bathroom door. Much like the one to her bedroom, it's not closed but slightly ajar. The light from it is harsher, and he can hear the shower running.

Deep down, he knows that what he's doing is simply _asking_ for trouble. She'll be so pissed at him, for what happened at work and now for him following her home and letting himself into her apartment.

Then again, he's pretty sure she doesn't take her gun to the bathroom with her (actually, he _knows_ she doesn't). He just wants to make sure that she's okay, that she's alive and breathing and unharmed, because in the few minutes he has been here, contemplating the many ways she will kill him for this, he hasn't heard anyone actually _move_ under the spray of water.

In an act that most would deem suicidal, he gathers his courage and crosses her bedroom, slowly pushing the bathroom door open. His breath catches and his heart starts beating wildly in his chest when his eyes catch the image on the mirror.

Ziva is indeed standing in her shower, clear glass doors preventing the water from escaping. She has her back turned to him and her face turned into the spray of hot water. Water cascades down her body team is slowly rising up, engulfing her body and fogging up the mirror.

It's more of an instinct than conscious reaction, but when he sees her naked form, he just reaches up and starts undressing himself. it's just natural to him. He doesn't care about how bad their fight was or how distant they have been lately, she's Ziva and he is Tony and that's all that matters there. When he lets his pants drop to the tiled floor he knows for sure that she is well aware of his presence because she doesn't jump or flinch at the sound of his belt buckle hitting the tiles. As he opens the doors to the shower stall, she turns her head , staring at the mirror behind them, right past his ear, not looking at him.

"Tony…" she mutters, but he bends down and captures her lips with his, effectively silencing her. He waits until she is responding to the kiss hungrily before he wraps his arms around her, the warm water hitting them as her hands go up to his neck and she pulls him into the shower and under the spray of water with her.

There is something desperate about the way she clings to him, and he's not sure if this is really what they should be doing, but at the same time it's always been their go-to- response when things are getting tense between them. In the summer when Gibbs was in Mexico and he was team leader and they often clashed at work, they spend most of their spare time in each other's arms and beds, having mindless, passionate sex to somehow let the other know that they still feel for them. And years of this have ingrained themselves into his brain so that he doesn't know how else to communicate with her any more when it comes to his feelings. He doesn't know any other way to let off steam besides yelling and they already did plenty of that at the Navy Yard.

Whoever thinks that shower sex is amazing needs to a lesson in reality. But for them, it's perfect. It's messy and slippery and not that satisfying and with the water and wet tiles and the danger of slipping and falling and hurting yourself it's just so _them_. Ziva's nails dig into the skin of his shoulder when he hoists her up and enters her and her head hits the wall when she throws it back in ecstasy. His eyes stare at her biting her bottom lip as she trembles in his arms before he begins moving and leans forward. He kisses her collarbone and groans when she lets go of his shoulders and starts nibbling on his earlobe, hissing into his ear when his grip on her falters slightly and she slides down slightly, changing the angle to _ohyesrightthereTONY!_ and takes him over the brink with her a few moments after.

She refuses to let go of him, hiding her face in his shoulder as he lets her slowly down, making sure she can stand on her own before he lets go off her. Still she stands, her arms locked around his neck and he is slowly growing concerned for her.

"Ziva…" he mutters, pressing a kiss to her wet curls. He shuts off the water and she shivers against him. He reaches up and gently pries her arms from his neck. Leaning back, he looks into her dark eyes that are suddenly becoming bloodshot. His partner is blinking rapidly and he cups her cheek with his hand.

"Hey," he breathes, trying to catch her eye but when he does, her expression suddenly hardens and angers fills her dark orbs.

"What?" she spits out and nearly pushes him up against the glass so she can get out of the shower. When she opens the door, cold air hits them and he shivers at the sudden drop in temperature, though he has a feeling that it's more the icy look he caught in her eyes that is causing the reaction. He watches her grab a towel and shake it open angrily before she wraps her body in it and turns to throw another one at him.

"Woah, hey, what the-"

"You got what you came for, get dressed and leave. _Now_." she hisses, again not looking at him before she disappears from the room. With a curse, he wraps the towel around his hips and grabs his clothes before he goes looking for her.

He finds her in the kitchen, a glass of water in her hand, wet curls dripping water onto her shoulders and the floor. She hears his naked feet on the tiles and this time, she acknowledges his presence.

"Wrong door." she tells him, turning and frowning when she finds him still dripping, his clothes clutched to his chest.

"Ziva-" he starts again, but just like before, she interrupts him, her voice sharp as a razor.

" _What_ , Tony? What is there to say? That you're sorry? So am I. We're all sorry. Now _leave."_

"Yeah, okay, I'm sorry alright." he raises his voice, dropping his belongings to the floor and getting in her face. "I'm sorry for what I said at work, I'm sorry for being a jerk, I'm sorry, okay? But I'm not sorry for what just happened, I'm not sorry for kissing you, I'm not sorry for having sex with you," he insists, grabbing her shoulders in an impulse, barely keeping himself from shaking her violently. Her hand opens and the glass falls from it, shattering on the tiles. "I'm not sorry for lo-" he suddenly bites his tongue and lets go of her to rake his hands through his wet hair. When he looks at her again, her eyes are clenched shut and her hands balled into tight fists, and for a second, he's afraid that he sent her into a flashback with his actions, but then she draws a shuddering breath and looks at him again with the expressionless mask she pulls over her face at work and he knows she is well aware of what he almost said.

" _We_ … are… _nothing_." she slowly says, her voice so calm, and it's the first time words actually make him feel like someone just ripped his heart out. "We work together. You are my partner and I am yours. But there is no _we,_ there _never_ was and there _never_ will be one."

He clenches his jaw and balls his fists briefly, trying to keep the rage down. He's growing tired of this game of push-and-shove, of their own twisted version of hide-and-seek. He should've known better, but that's just it, it never sees it coming when it's connected to her. She has a way of making him forget how they didn't work out the first time around, makes him forget all the stupid and hurtful things that have been said and done until he's only able to see _her_ , Ziva, the one with the innuendo and _areyouhavingphonesex_ and the kickass moves and fragile heart. Only that he tends to forget just how hard the punches she throws are, especially when she knows where to hit to cause the maximum amount of pain possible.

"Yeah, well, good luck trying to convince yourself of that." he tells her, bending down to grab his things. He doesn't wait for her retort or returns to her bathroom to get himself dry and change. Instead, he leaves the apartment and takes the elevator down. The woman that passes him in the hallway stares at him but he ignores her. Outside, the cool air of September evenings hits his skin but he doesn't feel cold any more, he just feels empty and numb.

It takes him the whole drive back to his apartment and two flights of stairs until he realizes he left his shoes at her place.

_fin._


End file.
